I am a Catholic and go to church every Sunday. On most weekdays, it’s the online service at home from 7 to 7.30 in the morning. Six popes have passed away in my lifetime. While I have no recollection of the first — the death of Pope John XXIII in 1963, when I was two years old — I remember each of the other moments vividly. Those were times of prayer, mourning and remembrance — and of a shared sense of community.

The departure of Pope Francis is similar and yet different. It feels personal. He was not just the Pope; he was my kind of Pope — a reformist Pope, an inclusive Pope, a compassionate Pope, a football-loving Pope, a Pope from the Global South, a Pope who spoke common sense, including on Gaza and the fires raging in the Holy Land. These were qualities that made me — made us — want to identify with him. He was also the first Jesuit Pope, and I can’t fail to mention that I went to a Jesuit school.

One of the world’s largest religious communities has lost its leader. No, this is not an obituary. This is not an analysis of the significant contribution Pope Francis made to the world or the windows he opened in the Catholic Church. This is not about how he “led with mercy” or advocated for social reforms. This is not about his progressive outlook towards women and the LGBTQ community. This is about what Vatican City’s most famous resident meant to me — an Indian, born and raised in........

© Indian Express